


Parasite Of The Heart

by NervousOtaku



Series: Neo-City Series [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Sex, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Reflection, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 15:33:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousOtaku/pseuds/NervousOtaku
Summary: Miss Atwood receives a usual visitor for the usual reasons.





	Parasite Of The Heart

_It is said that rowan seeds dropped from the sky can grow to replace any tree they land on._

Miss Atwood looked up as a news-bulletin interrupted the radio-program.

News-bulletins hardly meant anything good, these days.

She listened carefully as the announcer described the terrorist-attack on the New Age celebration. The attacker's identity was unknown, as were the intents and goals. Thanks to the presence of Samkiel Church, there were no casualties.

Well, that was all she really needed to know. She'd get to hear about it in more detail once evening came.

Groaning a little as she stood up, Miss Atwood put her knitting in her bag and turned the radio off. Evening was a ways off yet, but better to prepare now. She was getting old, after all.

She started with the curtains, pulling them all shut. The front door was locked, and the back one unlocked. She put water in the kettle, but didn't turn the stove on. Mugs with tea-bags were set on the table, a jar of honey next to them.

Next came the pictures.

Miss Atwood moved carefully about her home, collecting the photographs of her small, broken family. Happy smiles, skinned knees, frogs in buckets, and dirty shorts all vanished.

Sammy wasn't hers. He belonged to the company, a living weapon manufactured in their labs. But in her mind, Sammy was family.

Once she had all the pictures and the old ashtray tucked away, Miss Atwood moved to clean herself up.

There hadn't been any warning before Rowan deserted. The only notice she herself had received was Sammy storming in the back door and tearing the house up. He had been so torn up, so unhappy and confused. It had been midnight before the poor thing had calmed down enough to tell her what had happened.

Then Rowan had ‘visited’ the city-state.

Her son had tried to assassinate Sammy.

Once again, Sammy had come over in a rage, dripping blood from a hole in his shoulder, eyes wild. He had screamed and howled, almost animal in his anger.

Both times, he had paid for damages and helped repair what he could.

Since then, whenever he was upset, Sammy came over, spent the night, and left by dawn. When Rowan ‘visited,’ he slept with her, in her bed. He was soft, gentle, hissing quietly in her ear. When anything else happened, he slept in Rowan's old room, sprawled on the bed and clutching the sheets. He was tense, unhappy.

Tonight was obviously going to be her room.

As Miss Atwood left the shower, she didn't bother dressing, only tying her bathrobe shut and putting on her slippers. When she groaned at the stiffness in her knees, she made sure to grab the heating pad. Evening was still a few hours away, she should try to relax.

Returning to her rocking chair, Miss Atwood drew out her knitting and laid the heating pad over her legs. As it started to warm up, she sighed, closing her eyes.

Her boys had once been so good. So sweet.

What had happened?

Rowan had deserted the company, abandoned Neo-City. He'd taken to popping up at random, it seemed, trying to kill Sammy.

Sammy had taken to venting his stress on other people. She was the lucky one— she always lived through his little rages.

As she knit, she found her gaze moving to settle on an old drawing book. An old, cheesy thing, with fifty things to draw. Step-by-step instructions in green, black, and red. On the cover was a pink carnation.

Whenever Sammy had come to visit as a child, but the weather was no good for playing outside in, Miss Atwood had always sat the two boys down and drawn with them. She didn't play favorites, but Rowan's penmanship was better than his drawing. Sammy had only ever drawn the flowers, favoring the pink carnation displayed on the cover. He still drew them, a pad of paper and some pens and markers kept on the shelf with the book. He'd taken to pasting them on the front of the house.

Her poor, sweet baby boys...

The back door rattled open and shut.

She put her knitting down, listening.

A soft clomp— his boots tossed onto the mud-tray. Silence as he moved about. The stove being turned on. The silverware drawer creaked open and groaned shut. The fridge opening, the soft clink of the mugs being moved, the kettle going off. A beat of silence.

“Hey there.” Sammy greeted as he emerged from the kitchen, holding both their mugs and an apple. His usual leather coat was absent. A patch of gauze was slapped haphazardly over his cheek, not completely hiding the hole exposing his teeth. A larger patch covered his chest, spotted slightly with red. Both would be gone before they moved to her bedroom.

“Did you see him?” she asked softly, accepting her mug of tea.

“No. He was too far away this time, managed to shoot me twice before I figured out where he was and threw a fireball back.”

She nodded as he sat quietly at her feet.

“... I wish the bastard would just come back.”

“They'd kill him, Sammy, you know that.”

“Not on my watch they wouldn't.”

Miss Atwood couldn't help but smile forlornly into her tea.

If Sammy wanted to, he could uproot the company, level Neo-City. But he didn't, because he was not raised to take charge. Sammy needed the company. He was lost without it.

_It is said that rowan seeds dropped from the sky can grow to replace any tree they land on._


End file.
